Happy Father’s Day
June 18, 2010 – 10:01 am
Roses that my father propagated
As Father’s Day approaches I’ve been thinking about all of the questions I wished I had asked my father while he was still with me. Dad’s been gone for a while now and yet I still think about him affectionately every time I walk into my workshop for a tool, or try to change the oil in the lawnmower, or when I’m dripping with sweat trying to get the darned thing to start.
It’s funny what I associate with my father. When I intentionally think of him, I recall fond memories of him calling up to me to wake for school, eating cereal together in the wee hours of the morning before he left for work, always 40% Bran Flakes, or his predictable return home every night at 5:30 for dinner. I can still see him in full routine, removing his work shoes at the door, setting his lunchbox down on the counter, kissing my mother, then sitting at the head of the table he built himself, ready for the family meal.
We’d spend at least an hour at the dinner table when I was a kid, eating and laughing, recounting our day or discussing current events. My father was a laborer, with an elementary school education and big, meaty hands that spent their days steering an 18-wheeler up and down the highway for a construction company. He was a dyed-in-the-wool-democrat and a teamster, a self-taught man who questioned things in order to understand them better. He was also a fiscal and social conservative – something the media says no longer exists in the democratic party.
Oddly enough, despite these fond recollections, I think about Dad more in the unintentional moments of my day. I see him in my own actions, when I plant in my garden or try to fix a leaky faucet, when I’m driving down the highway or taking something apart to teach myself how it works. I imagine that I feel the same thrill he must have felt when I reap something I have sown or complete a repair that actually works!
Even more importantly, I think about who I am because of him and I try to live the lessons he taught me: to work hard and mind my own business, to always keep an extra $20.00 handy for emergencies and carry a hankerchief just in case, to show love by action and to always be accountable for those actions even when you’re wrong.
I used to think that I had to have degrees after my name and piles of tangible assets to prove my worth, but now that I have had all of that, I realize that my intangible assets are much more valuable and I am proud to be my father’s daughter. To all of those girls out there who love their daddy, give him a hug for me….
And ask him to teach you how to change the oil in your lawnmower.
4 Responses to “Happy Father’s Day”
Why is it so hard for girls to start a lawn mower?? Meanwhile, your gentle thoughts compel me to share this with friends on
Father’s Day weekend. And to compare my own memories ~ my father in his big brown chair, bourbon and branch by his side, smoking a Kool, working the London Times crossword (the one with NO black squares marked out), making notes on a pad for his next column in The Evening Post. If a light bulb blew in the den, you’d find him sitting in the dark till my mother got home from the bank and changed it. He had three degrees, but had to call the bank every morning to find out the balance of his checking account. Yet he enlisted in the Marines as a private at 30 and was the first soldier commissioned from the field in the South Pacific in WWII. Raconteur, semanticist, grammarian, retired Marine… we never, somehow, made a heart connection. I envy your memories. xxx h
By Hartley on Jun 18, 2010
I lost my Dad last year on Easter Sunday. Like your father he had a high school education but was continously educating himself. He pushed a broom at his first “real” job after he and mom married in 1957 and stayed at that same job for 30 years…retiring as vice president of the company. He taught me never to pay for something you can do yourself, that if you don’t have something nice to say don’t say anything, that you can accomplish anything you set your mind to by hard work and dedication. To take care of yourself so that you are able to take care of others and the value of a dollar. He was a proud American and an upright citizen. Happy Father’s Day to all the Dad’s.
By Lynn on Jun 18, 2010
Why is it so hard to start lawn mowers (for girls that is)? The recoil spring is stronger than we are so I decided to buy one that starts with a turn of a key like an auto!
My Dad has been gone for many years but I’m still thankful for the many skills I learned from him: painting on canvas with oils, grafting camellias, gigging flounders and cleaning fish (even filleting large fish from deepsea fishing trips), catching and quickly wringing a chicken’s neck and plucking it in preparation for Sunday dinner, chopping kindling from fat lighter to start the coal stove on winter mornings, the value of hard honest labor, the fine nuances of flyfishing, the joy of singing in a choir. . . .
Happy Father’s Day to all who are Dads and to all of you who shared memories, Thanks! Jerry
By Jerry Weise on Jun 19, 2010
I read Trish’s tribute to her Dad and tears welled in my eyes..I had planned to write then..but a health intervention stopped me in my tracks and here is end of June almost and I am still thinking of my Dad.
He was brilliant and could do anything. From listening to the engine in our cars (my first to remember–a new 1933 A-Model Ford)..epair the washing machine..to building Mama lovely table and chairs for our ever enlarging family..to mending any part of the house..could take us in another room and entertain us..keep us laughing or vitally interested is what he was telling us..or take us for a walk to closest woods and teach us more about nature..(he was a natural teacher)–as Mama would rest with a new baby.
Also a fine gardener too and growing many vegetables; plus he would teach us about fruit trees and their value (there seemed to be one in every one’s yard then)..so several kinds of cherries, plums, apples, peaches, etc were common to view and all neighbors shared.
This was great time of mechanical engineering but my Daddy’s training was not from books… just born with a natural understanding..he probably learned even more during wartime as tamks, trucks, etc were common to his every day life. That is why he could nearly always find some work during Depression..even though it was a job that would last only three or six months or so..once for two years..(I attended five Grammar Schools and three High Schools.. why I never failed a class is amazing to me as school was “you made the grade or you repeated.”) Yet word of mouth proceeded my Dad in the work arena and they would usually come find him..At the time I did not know his value in that category..but knew of him as dedicated American citizen who fought and fell on battle field in WW1..came home with shrapnel in many places..part of bone from left leg removed..he was so erect I never saw him limp but knew he could only wear high top shoes that laced the rest of his life..due to bone loss. Damaged lungs from mustard gas in the War.
I never saw him cook in our home but many time while playing in floor of kitchen would hear him chat with our Mama and say “Ruth, add a pinch of mustard or nutmeg to that..butter would be best in that vegetable, or try some rosemary with that beef stew, etc. And he taught her how to make marvelous Oyster Stew with onion, celery, nutmeg and black pepper…pure fresh cream..even went to neighbor’s to borrow 1/2 cup of “moonshine” to complete the recipe. I, to this day, love oysters two ways only: the stew and fried oysters. He could tell her nothing about baking except praise her. Her cakes, pies and any bread she made was was totally superior to all he had ever had, and he was a critique of such.
He taught us to always look out for each others, that we were siblings and no valuable friend could ever replace one of them. He told us love was not enough to give our Mother, that total respect and complete obedience were due her at any and all times. They both taught us that the God of Heaven is our Heavenly Father and to address Him as such.. and the earth itself, all we ever saw growing, the heavens above..the waters of the land and seas..to never fail to reconize it was His workmanship that brought them as gift to us and total reverence was due Him. We learned to know we lived in a world of many..they our brothers and sisters..that the Bible said we are to forgive..we do not have to forget the wrong they did but to forgive. And rehashing our hurts or aggravations about them was not sign of forgiveness.. And also, to love them..we did not have to like them..but He said to love them.
He taught me the value of reading the newspaper everyday..because as a pre-kindergartner I somehow knew words so important, they meant something.. and wanted to read..so: “if I would be still and quiet, (hard for me to do, I had too many questions) he would read to me. He did from front to end..even the society page (which he cared little about,)the “funny papers” and also the want ads..which was great interest to him. The front page and the editorials the most important pages of the entire paper to him. He had two special War friends..one lived in Gainesville, Ga and the other in Greenwood, SC.. Since we had a car, he would go visit them about once each year..and come home with many memories causing his eyes to seem looking far away. Mama understood..she always went with him..War is Hell… but Daddy said, there are many times War is necessary too. He never felt he had served and suffered except for a great cause.
Daddy taught us many dances he saw Russian and Belgian perform. And American dances too. At age 15..my first social dance to be invited to..a local “Winter Dance” a neighbor always held..my Dad asked me for the first dance .. so that I was totally at ease on dance floor if anyaone happened to be looking. Mama made me a simple but lovely, soft blue dress for the evening.
He swore his daughters would never learn to drive a car..(too dangerous for their nerves he said.) All four daughters did anyway, but he had nothing to do with teaching them and never allowed them to drive his car. He was very excited and thrilled and very proud when he learned I was taking flying lessons (it was a secret..I thought he would pitch a fit.) His five sons respected his service to our country so much, they all served in either the Navy, Air Force and one in Army Reserves.
At evening meal..we always had to sit quietly with hands in our laps till after the blessing was said, to never start eating till all the food was passed around and all served..then he would turn to one of us and ask what had we learned that day that was new? or interesting? or was hard and we thought we could not? And then current news was discussed..local, national and international.. WW1 Vets always remembered Europe and the War that would make us safe. We had marvelous feelings as children that we would be so very safe. His heart broke when Japan invaded China and could not beleive such had happened. He could sing as a Nightingale (Mama too) and I can remember they would be in any part of the house..one would start a song and then the other’s voice would enter..Their voices so pure I can remember putting a real doll down, or paper dolls I was “dressing” or something I was reading..of if playing Jackstones (the game) saying wait just a minure..just to hear them sing.
Life was not a bowl of cherries..but parents can make children very happy and feel safe.
Daddy’s black times was full recollections of the War..and if a firecracker went off unexpectedly..he was almost instantly in defense mode..thinking of the battlefield. He would never advance to a supervisor, etc any place he worked..he felt not to be responsiblle for any man’s work or advancement or even being laid off..He was Lieutenant and on battlefield fell..lay there in No Man’s Land for five days..and only four other men under his command survived. He felt he had failed them..and I said once, Daddy..you fought and was severly wounded too..how could you have saved them?? But the tears went down his cheeks anyway.
Too bad I did not get to write this earlier.. so much going through my head since Father’s Day..our Mother was the helm of our family ship..but our Dad..our Dad..a man of many values, strengths..the Captain at our home.. and could see the view ahead. But who had been subjected to mustard gas as well as shrapnel injuries..lay in a war hospital full year…and at times, his personality could change quickly..and only as an adult have I found understanding as why..and to a larger extent, what he gave to his family and this nation. We will never know of all he has suffered.
He is my Dad..I love and think of him..there is still so much more to talk to him about, sometime again we will. Geny Morrison
By geny morrison on Jun 26, 2010